


Put Your Hands On My Body, Just Like You Think You Know Me

by F4nd0mG33k17



Category: Mission: Impossible (Movies)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Fluff, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, M/M, Possessive Ethan, Smut, Soft Ethan, Some Swearing, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-13 21:48:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18039665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/F4nd0mG33k17/pseuds/F4nd0mG33k17
Summary: They've already swiped the intel they came for but Ethan figures sticking around to eavesdrop in person is worthwhile, until their target starts appraising the other partygoers. He's about to call it quits when a particularly explicit comment has him looking for the poor bastard it was aimed at ... only to find himself looking at Benji. Ever the professional, he refrains from throwing punches but ultimately ends up making more off a mess when he throwshimselfat Benji instead. Thankfully, it all works out in the end.





	1. I Don't Usually Give In To Peer Pressure

**Author's Note:**

> These two are still ruining my life and everyone in the Benthan fandom has been such a sweetheart so the fics are gonna keep coming for a good while! I couldn't think of anything better than a little Venetian sunshine and Benthan being idiots in love given the shit weather we've been having recently and so this happened. 
> 
> This is my first attempt at anything remotely resembling smut so any advice would be much appreciated if it's awful and if it's decent then PLEASE tell me so I can stop panicking!
> 
> Once again, shoutout to @fictionallemons and @ruthc93 for all their help with polishing this one up <3
> 
> PS I love using music to help with my fic writing, title is from Peer Pressure by James Bay and Julia Michaels which has since become my favourite song for Benthan sexy times so go check it out!

_Sometimes his job is a little too much to be taken seriously._ Benji’s in a ridiculously expensive suit, at a masquerade ball, in an-honest-to-God castle in Venice. He shakes his head at it all but can’t keep the small smile off his face, even as he refocuses on the situation at hand. His gaze sweeps the jovial crowd and easily finds Ilsa, her crimson dress and black and gold filigree mask making her as eye catching as ever. Benji is yet to determine how, in spite of all her feminine beauty, their honeytrap had failed; he hasn’t so much as considered a woman since discovering his sexuality, but if she’d laid all her charms on him like she had their target then he can’t imagine he wouldn’t have tried taking her to bed. 

A commotion across the room draws him from his thoughts and he looks up in time to see Ethan enacting Plan B in the form of the classic, not-so-accidental-collision ploy. _And there’s the bonus points for the spilled drink_ he grumbles mentally; it’s a stupid game he and Ethan had devised on a particularly slow night in a shitty safe house in the backass of Canada, one that’s hit him in the wallet more times than he’d like to admit. He adds another mark to the tally of drinks he owes Ethan and watches as he pockets the intel he’s so effortlessly pilfered.

His eyes are drawn to the red tinge of both ears and cheeks, the way Ethan tilts his head down so that his hair falls into his eyes and makes him look both devastatingly handsome and utterly innocent. Their target rumbles loudly in rapid Italian and, while Benji’s own Italian is good enough for him to know the words are to the tune of Ethan not being at fault and no problem having been created, the way Sato’s hand curls against the skin under Ethan’s open shirt collar in an inherently familiar touch has an uncomfortable feeling writhing in Benji’s gut. He’s immensely glad when Ethan subtly evades the contact as soon as he possibly can. And if Benji slinks further into the corner he’s lurking in and nurses his whisky a little morosely as Ethan insists on purchasing a replacement drink for Sato, well that’s his own business.

——

Ethan manages to extract himself from conversation with Sato after replacing the drink he had spilled upon their collision and is most grateful for the quick getaway. He remains at the bar a few spaces over, angled away from Sato but still listening intently in case anything useful comes up. He’s considering bailing as the conversation devolves into decidedly suggestive observations of several other guests when he suddenly realises why Plan A hadn’t worked; Ilsa is _definitely_ not the man’s type. 

“My, my,” Sato drawls from next to him, tone so dripping with lust it makes Ethan’s skin crawl. He turns back toward Sato and his entourage, unable to fight the concern that he’s the one being appraised, and is relieved to find the man in question isn’t actually referring to him. “I admire any man who can appreciate the whisky they’re serving tonight but I could certainly think of much more productive uses for that particular young man’s mouth,” the depraved old man continues. Ethan feels a heady rush of both sympathy and anger for the poor man that Sato is currently degrading and follows his gaze -- right to where Benji is leaning casually against a wall across the room. His instincts have him moving before he’s really got a plan more extensive than putting himself between Benji and Sato. Several people near him flinch as he sets his glass down on the bar a little too roughly and stalks through the crowd at the edge of the dance floor. 

His heart is pounding in his chest and his head feels light, vision a little blurry when he tries to focus on anything but Benji. He’s still a decent distance away when blue eyes meet his own with unerring accuracy and the rushing in his ears seems to fade a little. He watches Benji’s brow furrow in the way he’d usually find slightly amusing and sees the techie stand a little straighter, body tensing and eyes searching for the threat he can read in Ethan’s gait and expression. A few more purposeful steps bring him within conversational distance and Benji opens his mouth to speak but Ethan presses closer still. As a result, Benji only manages to stutter out a slightly flustered “Christ, Ethan, what--” before Ethan’s left hand grips his hipbone and his right cups Benji’s jaw and his momentum presses them both tightly to the wall at Benji’s back. 

Benji looks set to protest, or maybe just ask Ethan _what the fuck he’s doing_ , but then Ethan’s pressing their lips together and licking demandingly into his mouth. Shock and confusion freeze Benji for a moment as Ethan’s nails bite into his skin through his shirt in a stark contrast to the callused thumb sweeping gently over his jaw and then Ethan’s tongue tangles with his own and the jolt of electricity down his spine seems to kickstart his brain again. He presses flat palms to Ethan’s chest and feels the warmth of his skin and firmness of muscle beneath expensive cotton as Ethan drags his teeth over his bottom lip and a low sound rumbles from his chest at the new sting accompanying the one at his hip. Even though he’s pressed firmly against the wall by Ethan’s tightly muscled frame, Benji turns the tide between them and starts to dominate the kiss. His right hand slides up into the back of Ethan’s hair and he tugs a little more roughly than he’d meant to but Ethan responds with a high keening noise that has him simultaneously half hard in his suit pants and feeling as if a bucket of water has been tipped over his head. He jerks away from Ethan’s mouth and they both draw their hands back in an awkward fumble that makes Benji feel like a teenager caught with his hand down his boyfriend's pants for the first time.

Benji’s pulse is pounding in his skull and his tongue seems to be too preoccupied with the loss of Ethan’s tangled around it to form coherent words. The tinge of pink he noted across Ethan’s ears earlier is nothing compared to the burning in the other man’s cheeks now and Benji’s surprised to see Ethan so obviously uncertain given how rare a look it is for him. He opens and closes his mouth several times without emitting a sound and Benji’d wrack his brain to think if he’s ever seen Ethan this flustered before if it weren’t for the endless loop of _?!?!?_ currently going through his head. Finally, Ethan manages to find his voice and stutter what Benji thinks must be an explanation but he only manages to catch “Sato” “suggestive” “you” “panicked” and “sorry” in the tidal wave of words spilling so quickly from his lips they sound like a single noise. He thinks he must make some form of affirmative response but he’s still completely lost and the confusion doesn’t clear any when Ethan’s fingers lace gently through his own and tug him insistently away from the ballroom and back to whatever ridiculous car Ethan drove here tonight. 

The ride that Benji presumes is taking them back to their safe house is completed in a silence he thinks Ethan is struggling with but he’s still so wrapped up in his own thoughts he can’t be sure. The scent of Ethan’s aftershave seems inescapable in the small sports car and the way Benji’s bottom lip and right hip sting means he can’t escape the kiss playing over and over in his mind, leaving him feeling hot and prickly and shifting as subtly as he can to try and relieve the press of his fitted pants where he’s still half hard. He almost jumps out of his skin when Ethan clears his throat after pulling up. Benji had been too deep in thought to realise they’d stopped but he manages a sheepish smile in response to the amused one the other man apparently couldn’t fight down. Some of the tension in the air between them bleeds away. 

They’re both still silent as they head into the safe house but years of familiarity has them moving in sync toward the kitchen area. Benji watches surreptitiously as Ethan yanks his fancy cuff links free and tosses them aside before turning his sleeves up to his elbows and popping another couple buttons undone at his throat. Benji, already in turned up shirtsleeves and free of his jacket, busies himself with pulling beers and leftovers from the fridge out of habit more than desire to consume either. He shoves a tray at Ethan and tosses him a fork, adamantly trying to stamp down the heat rising in his cheeks as Ethan’s Adam’s apple bobs with each deep pull from his beer. He stabs a little viciously at his tub of noodles while Ethan mostly ignores his own but before either of them can say anything the others begin to spill through the door.

They both seem to panic a little at the company, but then Ilsa lets out a decidedly unladylike string of words as she struggles out of her heels that has Brandt skittering nervously toward Luther and Ethan snorting into his food and the matter is mostly pushed aside. Ethan holds his gaze for a long moment and tilts his head slightly in a way that Benji reads as “We good?” and he’s still confused as fuck but it’s _Ethan_ so he smiles and nods and hopes his eyes suggest the conversation isn’t entirely over and is relieved as all hell when Ethan understands, just like he always does when it comes to Benji. Ethan rounds the kitchen island under the guise of grabbing beers for the others and his eyes are soft when they meet Benji’s, almost as soft as the accompanying promise of, “Later.”


	2. But I'll Give In To Yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethan tries to explain himself and then things heat up

Ethan feels tired, but he’s also still too keyed up to sleep. He takes in the way Ilsa is sprawled across the couch in a slightly ungainly position, the way Brandt is hunched in a chair staring somewhat vacantly at the glaringly bright screen of his cell phone, and the way Luther’s holding a book under the lamplight but hasn’t turned the page in a good 10 minutes. He can tell that his team are all tired enough to want to sleep but won’t actually go until he dismisses them. He’s undecided, until he gets a better look at Benji. Despite his appearance being the most encouraging of them all, Ethan knows him well enough to catch the little tells; the way his spine is just a little off centre as he perches on the breakfast stool at the kitchen island, the way he leans just a little too heavily on his elbow, and the way his keystrokes seem half hearted to anyone that’s seen him work with his usual zeal. And when Benji looks up at him to ask for the intel drive from Sato, the real clincher is in the way those stunning blue eyes with that rogue patch of brown that’s entranced Ethan for so long are shadowed underneath and tinged with redness from the long day. 

“Alright,” he calls, loud enough in the silence that Brandt actually startles. “We’re done for the day. Get some rest and we’ll start digging through the new intel tomorrow.” There’s no obvious relieved groans but the enthusiasm with which everyone shuffles to their respective rooms speaks volumes. Realising he hasn’t heard any movement from where Benji’s sat behind him, he turns with a question on his lips and a quirked eyebrow only to find Benji looking at him in a way he can’t discern. Their gazes hold for a few quiet moments and he presumes Benji must find whatever answer he was looking for because he closes his laptop down and heads to his room with a gentle “Goodnight, Ethan” and a sleep-soft smile. The answering “Night, Benji” falls from Ethan’s lips too quietly to be heard but the other man’s slipped away by the time he speaks it anyway.

——

His door’s barely shut behind him before Benji’s eagerly shedding his suit. He tosses everything in the vague direction of the chair in the corner of his bedroom and spares a moment to consider how outrageously creased his dress shirt and pants will be in the morning before ultimately deciding that he’s just too tired to care. He’s never been more pleased to see his soft sweatpants and threadbare Star Trek t-shirt and promptly buries himself under the thick comforter. He feels exhausted all of a sudden and so curls up tightly on his side and waits for sleep to steal him away. And waits, and waits, and waits some more. He tosses and turns, tries lying on his other side and his front and his back before he eventually drifts into a fitful sleep. He can’t recall a specific dream or nightmare when he jolts awake but his skin feels like it’s burning and the comforter is tangled around his legs in a way that unnerves him in his disorientated state. He peels his shirt off and tosses it away from the bed, instantly relieved at the cool air against his heated skin. He scrubs a hand over his eyes and debates getting a glass of water when the clock on the bedside table catches his eye and he sees he can't even have been asleep an hour. The realisation has him groaning aloud before stubbornly yanking the covers back up and flailing about with enough force that the bed frame bumps the wall above his head. He shuts his eyes and wills himself to sleep, a minute passing before his phone buzzes and he admits defeat. 

The screen burns his retinas when he turns it over and he has to blink several times before he can focus well enough to see the message from Ethan. It reads “Can’t sleep?” He sends back a slightly aggressively typed “No” before deciding Ethan isn’t mocking him and follows up with “Sorry” and then, after a little while with no reply, adds on “Didn’t mean to wake you,” considering their rooms share a wall and Benji’s fidgeting is probably clearly audible in Ethan’s. He gets an almost instant response of “I can’t sleep either” and is debating what to reply when his door pushes open quietly and Ethan’s head appears in the gap. 

Benji can’t help but smile at the timid look and messy hair Ethan is sporting and the other man clearly takes this as permission to actually enter the room. He pads across the carpet barefoot, sweatpants hanging low on his hip bones and an olive green t-shirt hugging his upper body. When he settles on the far side of Benji’s mattress the younger man nearly catches his breath at the way the colour of his top brings out the gold and grey specks in Ethan’s eyes in the moonlight and a dazzling smile is turned in his direction. He scoots a little more upright against his headboard and watches as Ethan folds his legs under him and faces Benji with a look in his eyes he doesn’t particularly like. When Ethan’s eyes shift about and his hands twist in his lap, Benji recognises the nerves written across his frame and feels his brow furrow a little. “Ethan?” he prompts, voice soft in the darkness.

Ethan sighs a little and finally meets Benji’s eyes, much to the other man’s relief. His hands twist again as he struggles to find a coherent way to express what happened earlier on the op but it’s the soft look in Benji’s eyes that puts him at ease enough to find his voice. “About earlier--” he begins cautiously and watches carefully as an endearing shade of pink steals across Benji’s cheeks “--when I was at the bar near Sato, after we took the intel, he was checking out some of the other guests. I was planning on making an exit, because frankly the things he was saying were making me pretty uncomfortable, but then someone in particular took his eye and he--” Ethan blanches as Sato’s words come back to him and his fists clench in Benji’s comforter as that red wave wells in him once again. Benji’s hand touches his softly and Ethan releases a deep breath as his fist uncurls, hoping Benji can see the gratitude in his eyes when he looks up again and continues speaking. “Let’s just say he said something...graphic? And I felt this rush of sympathy for the poor guy that bastard was making eyes at. I just couldn’t help looking around, and _God, Benji_ , he was looking at you. I don’t really know what happened after that.” The eyebrow Benji raises in response has Ethan flushing and he trips over his amendment of “Okay, yeah, I mean. I know--er, that--happened but I don’t--” and then Benji’s laugh cuts through the rush of excuses and apologies on the tip of his tongue. 

Ethan watches as Benji brings a hand to his mouth in an attempt to stifle the sound given how late it is, but the mirth dancing in his eyes remains as words form among the giggles. It seems to take great effort to control himself enough to tell Ethan, “Sorry, sorry. I’m not laughing at you, really, it’s just I don’t think I’ve _ever_ seen you trip over your words before and the tips of your ears are _so_ red right now!” But then he’s laughing again and Ethan feels the aforementioned ears burn even more despite the smile tugging at his own lips. Benji shakes his head in what Ethan presumes is exasperation among more giggles and a wave of something has him crushing their mouths together for the second time that night. His hands shake as he rests them gently against Benji’s jaw, mouth soft and hesitant in a way he couldn’t manage in his haze of anger at the party. 

Also unlike earlier, Benji doesn’t freeze up for a second. His hands are far steadier than Ethan’s when they curl in the soft fabric of his top and pull the smaller man closer. Ethan goes willingly but realises that his crossed legs are going to be an issue the moment he begins to overbalance. His palms land on the pillow either side of Benji’s head as their bodies collide and he pulls his mouth away with the intention of apologising but the breath gets knocked out of his lungs when Benji grips his hair and shifts so that Ethan winds up between his legs. Benji’s mouth meets his firmly and he barely has the presence of mind to straighten his legs out when he feels blunt nails scratching down his back. He thinks maybe he should be embarrassed by the moan he lets out as cool hands slip under the front of his shirt but Benji pulls away from his lips enough to tilt his head back and pant out, “Fuck, _Ethan_ ,” and his mind whites out for a second. 

When he manages to open his eyes again he finds Benji’s focused on him, bottom lip tugged between his teeth in a surprisingly innocent expression as his hands nudge the hem of Ethan’s top upwards a little shyly. Ethan has no such reservations and reaches over his shoulder to grab the fabric at the back of his neck and yank it up. He tosses the offending article at the floor and finally lets himself appreciate the fact that Benji’s shirtless too. He’d taken to teasing Benji about the way he’s been working out since getting into the field because the blush it had brought to his cheeks had been stunning and he thinks maybe this is his comeuppance for that. 

His hands are still shaking when he ghosts them down Benji’s neck and swipes his thumb across one collarbone but the heat in Benji’s eyes and the way he drags in a rough breath at Ethan’s touch spurs him on. He presses in closer to drag his tongue across the collarbone he’d just traced and then darts his eyes up to check this is okay. Benji’s eyes are screwed tightly shut and his mouth is slightly parted and Ethan feels hot all over at the sight. Reassured, he leans in again and drags openmouthed kisses across the skin where Benji’s neck and shoulder meet. His hands skate lower, brushing a nipple and making Benji jerk a little before slipping further and dragging across washboard abs. He gets a hand in the back of his hair in response to the press of his teeth against Benji’s skin and it’s enough to distract him from admiring the way Benji’s pale skin is already bruising from his mouth. 

Ethan watches intently as he scratches lightly at Benji’s left hip and then drags his fingertips over the soft skin between Benji’s navel and the waistband of his sweats. Benji meets his gaze steadily, blue and brown irises swamped by the black of his blown pupils and cheeks tinged that shade of pink Ethan loves so much. The drag of Ethan’s fingertips is the only movement between the two of them and the stillness in the air makes that touch all the more electric. Benji’s tongue sweeps over his lips and the tension in Ethan snaps.

His left hand cups Benji’s jaw and tilts him up into a slow kiss that the younger man sinks into wholeheartedly. Only when he feels fingers in his hair and knows for sure that Benji is totally entranced by the kiss does Ethan’s hand slip lower to shape him through his sweatpants. He’s rewarded by a strangled moan against his mouth and one hand in his hair pulling roughly but it’s the hand that darts down and curls tight around his wrist that gives him pause. He pulls back enough to catch Benji’s eye, entire body locked with tension and concern that he’s just fucked this up. The hand in his hair loosens and drags gently through the strands Benji’s just tangled together but still Ethan doesn’t dare to breathe. The grip on his wrist relaxes slightly and Ethan’s shoulders follow suit but he still can’t bring himself to move, that is until Benji draws his hand upwards and tilts his hips into the movement with a breathy moan, eyes fluttering shut and voice so hoarse that Ethan barely catches the whimpered “Please” pressed between them.

He presses more wet kisses to Benji’s flushed skin as his hand teases up and down through Benji’s sweatpants and that hand tugs at his hair again and has his grip tightening as they both moan. He takes a few seconds to just appreciate the way Benji looks, the way Ethan has _made_ him look, as the younger man shifts his hips restlessly and tries to encourage the movement of his hand with more tugs at his hair and incoherent mumbling of what he thinks is “Ethan,” “fuck,” “please,” and “more” over and over. He draws his hand back and can’t help but smile at the disappointed noise pulled from Benji’s throat and the alarmed look in his eyes as he slurs something Ethan can’t understand but seems to be a question. His fingertips find the top of Benji’s sweatpants and curl just underneath, making no move to go further until Benji meets his eyes and nods emphatically at the unspoken question in them. There’s more fumbling than Ethan would ever admit to as he tugs the soft fabric off of Benji’s legs and he can see a mischievous glint in Benji’s eyes that says he’s absolutely going to call him on it until Ethan gets his confidence back and has Benji’s boxers off and a hand wrapped around him before the undoubtedly sarcastic comment makes its past his lips. He knows he’s smirking now and exactly how much that’ll piss Benji off but he swipes his thumb at the head of his cock before he gets in trouble and watches Benji’s back arch, even as he fights to grin through a moan and spits out an affectionate “Bastard!” before Ethan’s hand twists on an upstroke and he coughs out another moan. 

Benji seems to be fighting to keep quiet and Ethan briefly thinks about the others in the safe house but figures they’re all far enough away and likely asleep to really be concerned. He takes pity on Benji nonetheless and seals their mouths together, a feeling like lightning slipping up his spine at the desperate press of Benji’s tongue against his own and the muffled sounds he’s given up on trying not to make. He pulls back so they can both catch their breath but wastes no time dragging his mouth down Benji’s neck and reinforcing the mark he’d left earlier before moving lower, kissing and biting roughly even as he keeps the pressure of his hand light and tugs at Benji painfully slowly. He thinks Benji must know he’s being a tease on purpose but he’s planning to keep it up until he’s called out when he spots raised red crescents on Benji’s hips where he’d grabbed him at the party earlier and he loses his rhythm with the surge of arousal that goes through him at the sight. Benji draws in a sharp breath as Ethan fits his mouth over the marks and adds the indents of his teeth to the ones left by his nails. He swipes at Benji’s tip as he presses his mouth to the inside of a pale thigh and the way Benji calls his name this time has Ethan glancing up. 

Benji meets his eyes steadily but there’s an underlying nervousness Ethan doesn’t particularly like as he clears his throat and tries to find his voice. He gets as far as, “Ethan, you know you don’t have to, um, do--” before trailing off and averting his gaze. Ethan’s absolutely not having that and he pulls Benji’s gaze back to him with a gentle hand at his jaw, needing Benji to see his eyes and really hear him as he assures him, low and confident, “I know, Benji. But _I want to_.” 

He keeps still, lets Benji’s gaze search his face and his eyes and take whatever he needs in order to understand that Ethan wants this as much as he does, and the way Benji’s smile lights up at what he finds makes Ethan’s heart soar. He presses a kiss so soft it’s almost chaste against the corner of Benji’s mouth and then he’s ducking back down and swiping his tongue over the tip of Benji’s cock. His hands instantly come up to keep Benji’s hips pressed down to the mattress as the younger man jolts upwards and he can’t stop the laugh falling from his lips at Benji’s shrill cry of “Jesus _fucking_ Christ, Ethan!” Benji answers his boyish grin and quirked eyebrow with a fond head shake and the shine of what looks like awe in his eyes before collapsing back against the bed and tugging Ethan’s hair in retaliation as he finally speeds up the movement of his hand and takes Benji into his mouth fully. 

Ethan has a brief moment of insecurity, hell, he hasn’t done this in a long time and never with anyone that matters like Benji does, until Benji tightens his grip in his hair and lets the whimpers and swear words he’s been holding back fall from his mouth unabashed. Ethan gets his head on right and swirls his tongue in a way he knows feels good and is rewarded by a particularly filthy word falling from Benji’s mouth. He looks up from under his lashes to find the hand Benji doesn’t have fisted at the back of his head wrapped around the bed frame so tightly his knuckles are white and his confidence skyrockets. He takes Benji deeper and drags his nails down the inside of his thigh, mouth working faster even as Benji bucks up and rasps out, “Fuck, Ethan,” and tugs his hair roughly in warning seconds before he’s spilling himself across Ethan’s tongue. Ethan works him through softly until it’s too much and Benji tugs him up to press their mouths together in a kiss so intimate Ethan feels his toes curl. 

He hovers over Benji on shaky arms and loses himself in the gentle slide of Benji’s tongue against his own and doesn’t even notice he’s rock hard until Benji pushes him onto his back and straddles his hips. He feels like he needs to say something but barely manages to choke out Benji’s name before warm fingers dip into his boxers and wrap around his length. The tables have turned and he’s the one cursing and moaning into their kisses as Benji jerks him in a way that robs him of breath. He’s incoherent as he climbs higher and he thinks he’s muttering Benji’s name but he couldn’t swear on it. It feels an embarrassingly short time before his nails are biting into Benji’s back and he’s spilling hot and wet into Benji’s fist with a gasp that makes his lungs ache. He’s pretty sure his vision whites out and when he comes back to himself Benji’s scattering butterfly kisses across the trail of scars on his chest and arms. He shifts and that draws Benji’s attention. He goes to pull him closer and winces at the damp stickiness in his boxers but can’t really bring himself to care when Benji ducks his head a little and murmurs an amused apology against his lips. Ethan indulges himself with a few long, languid kisses before the mess in his pants can’t be ignored any longer and has to excuse himself to the bathroom across the hall. By the time he’s cleaned himself up and snuck back into Benji’s room, the tech is sprawled across the considerable majority of the mattress and cocooned in the comforter so tightly Ethan can’t even tell where the edge is. He stands in the doorway and allows himself the slow perusal of Benji he so often denies himself before he tucks himself carefully against the other man’s contorted form and holds him close, falling into the most content night’s sleep he can recall for a very long time.


	3. Mmm, Yeah, I'll Give In To Yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after aka tooth rotting fluff

Benji’s head feels oddly clouded when he comes to and realises it’s from sleeping so deeply as opposed to a concussion or any manner of other injuries he’s gotten used to as a field agent. He takes in the warm weight on his chest with some confusion, not recalling the comforter being so luxurious when he’d pitched into bed the night before. His confusion comes to an abrupt end when the warm mass above him moves and a familiar mop of brown hair emerges from under the blanket. _Holy fuck!_ his mind helpfully supplies, followed by _Ethan Hunt is in my arms_. He shifts a little, carefully as to not wake Ethan, and tries to assess the situation and get a better handle on the thoughts screaming through his head in a manic jumble. The noise in his mind clears as Ethan shuffles against him, face squished against Benji’s chest in a way that can’t possibly be comfortable but looks hilariously cute, leg thrown haphazardly over Benji’s hips. Ethan’s shifting drags the blanket lower and reveals the tanned skin and muscled back _that Benji has raked nail marks into, Jesus Christ!_ and he’s really working himself into a panic now but then Ethan’s head lifts and he presses his mouth softly to Benji’s collar bone and murmurs “Good morning” against his skin with a smile. 

His hand clenches where it’s wrapped around Ethan’s hip and the way Ethan pushes upright and meets Benji’s gaze with eyes far too clear for someone who just woke up has his body tensing beneath Ethan’s pliant heat. There’s another beat of silence before Ethan’s brow furrows and he speaks. “Benji? Talk to me.” Benji scrubs a hand across his face in what Ethan knows is his nervous gesture and then there’s more space between them and Benji can breathe a little easier even if words still escape him for the time being. 

Ethan waits patiently, face calm and open until Benji asks uncertainly, “You’re still here?” and then his expression stutters through hurt and self loathing before becoming carefully blank and Benji wants to smack his head against the wall. Ethan shifts as if to leave and Benji moves with a speed that startles them both as he grabs at Ethan’s wrists, words falling from his lips in his usual chaotic manner as he cries out, “No, wait! I didn’t mean that! That wasn’t what I meant to say, although I don’t really know what I _actually_ meant to say but I woke up with you in my arms, and last night and everything and--” before he runs out of breath and trails off weakly, tugging at his hair in frustration. Ethan’s hand catches his seemingly out of instinct to stop Benji hurting himself and then Benji manages the impossible as he pitches forward and fits his mouth to Ethan’s and actually catches the older agent by surprise. Ethan makes a soft noise against his mouth and Benji fears he’s going to pull away and presses forward more enthusiastically in an attempt to stop him and then Ethan’s kissing him back and Benji can breathe for the first time since he woke up. 

This time when Ethan tries to pull away, Benji lets him draw back but is relieved when he stays close enough that their foreheads touch and they’re still sharing air. “I’m still here,” Ethan tells him softly, and it holds everything Benji needs to know and he feels the tension bleed out of him completely. Ethan feels it too and he gives Benji that million watt smile as he adds, “You won’t be getting rid of me that easily anymore. You know that, right?” and Benji’s blue brown eyes meet Ethan’s green and gold ones and his mouth turns up in that gentle smile that melts Ethan’s heart. He nods solemnly in a way that’s belied by the twinkle in his eye and then Ethan’s pressing him into the mattress and straddling his waist and their words dissolve into giggles and gasps as the sun crests the horizon and makes the waters of Venice sparkle beyond the window.

They spend the next week getting shot at and narrowly avoiding being blown up but Ethan’s hand is clasped tightly around Benji’s as they run for their lives and that’s all that matters.


End file.
